


Novillero

by Lullabylily



Category: Alex Rider - Anthony Horowitz
Genre: Canon Compliant, Coda, Dubcon Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-31
Updated: 2017-01-31
Packaged: 2018-09-21 04:57:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9532442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lullabylily/pseuds/Lullabylily
Summary: Yassen has an interesting idea to keep Alex alive when Franco wants him dead.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Spoiler warning for Eagle Strike. This story will very likely not make sense if you haven’t read those chapters in Eagle Strike. 
> 
> This was my first attempt at Yassen/Alex written in 2010, shortly after I finished reading Eagle Strike. Personally, I thought the whole bullfight scene was slightly absurd and a very weird attempt of Yassen to keep Alex alive. But... there was a lot of Yassen/Alex potential:   
> \- Alex forced to undress at gunpoint  
> \- Alex injured, out angsting in the rain and (partially) undressing again.   
> I could not leave those two gems alone! It annoyed me that Yassen left Alex before the end of the fight; so this fic will imply that he didn’t really leave.

The order to strip hung heavily in the air. It looked as if Alex had stopped breathing altogether. He looked at Yassen so incredulously; looked from the gun to the assassin holding the weapon. The weapon Alex had been holding in his own hands mere moments ago. 

"Do not make me repeat myself, Alex."

The threat did not escape Alex’s attention. Eyes darting around, Yassen knew the boy was still looking for a way out of the situation. But his hands, though trembling slightly, were starting to tug at his t-shirt and managed to pull it over his head in one swift movement. As he worked the button and zip of his trousers, Yassen saw how the boy was trying to keep fear out of his eyes. 

Not nearly frightened enough, Yassen assessed, as his eyes remained transfixed at the MI6 agent in front of him. Perhaps because of his age he did not fully grasp the danger he was in. Young or not, he sure knew enough about the world to feel extremely vulnerable without any clothes on his body. 

Yassen wished he knew what was going through the boy’s mind. Though watching him was more than enough of a treat already.

When Alex was wearing nothing but his boxers he met Yassen’s eyes. The look in his eyes a mixture of uncertainty and defiance. The boy’s fingers played with the hem of the last piece of clothing shielding him from Yassen’s eyes and he looked ready to refuse any order to shed that last piece of his dignity. 

But Yassen simply shook his head. "That’ll do."

Relief flooded Alex’s eyes but it was short-lived. Shame red rose to the boy’s cheekbones as he finally noticed how the assassin’s eyes wandered over his body; taking in every curve, every line, every scar…

The pale, firm chest was marked in many ways; most noticeable were scars crisscrossing the region of his lower abdomen. His arms and legs carried a dozen of thin, white lines as well, reminders of countless cuts and bruises. 

If Yassen hadn’t already been keeping close tabs on the progress of Alex’s ‘career’, the boy’s marked body would have been telltale of MI6’s continuing exploitation of the boy. The fierce markings were such a contrast to the youth of Alex Rider. Not a boy, not a man, stuck in the in-between but growing up too fast. Though Yassen knew Alex had received very little formal training, his body looked in great physical shape. He was lithe and quick and yet quite muscular at the same time. But when clothed he also managed to look like any other English schoolboy; with an abundance of natural charm and personality as well as a smile that could be disarming one moment and dangerous the next. 

Yassen did not allow himself to look for John in his son’s appearance. 

Franco had re-entered the room. A dark grin on his face. He handed Yassen the clothes and the assassin roughly shoved them in Alex’s hands. "Put these on."  
There was a mixture of relief and confusion when Alex started dressing again. But realisation dawned quickly as Alex worked out exactly what kind of ‘uniform’ it was. He looked darkly at Yassen. 

A small smile graced the assassin’s lips. "There. We will now be able to pass you off as a _novillero_." 

"A what?" Alex asked, a rough edge to his voice. 

"A _novillero_." Yassen let the world roll over his lips with a mock-Spanish accent. "A novice bullfighter." There was amusement in his eyes as he appraised how Alex looked both ridiculous and stunning at the same time. His eyes lingering on the tightly fitted trousers that left very little to the imagination.

"You want me to fight a bull?" Alex asked. If he was alarmed, he hid it well.

"Yes." Yassen checked his watch, "In twenty minutes. So we better get you to the arena."

It was Franco who dragged him up to the deck and off the boat. Alex was handcuffed again. Franco could only bare being taken down once by a boy less than half his age. 

"Yassen sure has taken an interest in you." Alex didn’t respond as Franco hissed in his ear, though the discomfort of Franco’s breath on his face was clear. "He will make sure you get an _interesting_ death."

xXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX

There was electricity in the air, but there hadn’t been any thunder. Alex was soaked through. And the rain kept on pounding in on him relentlessly.

He finally found shelter in a small alley in between two houses. It provided a leaking roof. After manoeuvring his way past some bicycles that were left leaning against the walls, he finally allowed himself to catch his breath. 

He looked down at his wet clothes and started yanking them off. The hat, the jacket, the belt… The items ended up crumpled on the cobblestones underneath his feet. They were soaked and stained with blood. With a final kick Alex said goodbye to the stupid carnival costume that had almost become the last thing he ever wore. 

He remained in the simple black trousers and white shirt. The shirt was torn and blooded and for a moment Alex considered taking it off as well. A struck of lightening lit up the alley and Alex’s breathing hitched as he glimpsed a figure standing in the darkness behind him. Yassen.

"Don’t stop undressing on my account, by all means." Yassen did not bother to keep the innuendo out of his voice. 

Alex would have blushed if it hadn’t been for the anger and fear that simultaneously rushed through his veins. "You!" he bellowed, "You tricked me! You weren’t going to let me survive either way!"

His near-death experience making him reckless, he launched at the Russian.

"Yet here you are; alive and…kicking." Yassen spoke calmly as Alex lashed out at him.

He was able to restrain Alex easily, locking the boy’s arm behind his back. Alex winced and a soft moan escaped his lips as Yassen’s rough movements had inadvertently ripped at the fresh cut near his waist. But Alex kept on shifting in Yassen’s grip, trying to free his hands while his knees were aiming for Yassen’s groin. 

Yassen smiled at the attempt. 

"Stop fighting me, Alex!" The assassin used his body weight to restrain the boy, "I’m older, more experienced and stronger than you are. You are injured. I am not. You will only hurt yourself even more."

Finally Alex stopped struggling. "Have you come to finish me off yourself?" He was a tense bundle of nerves in Yassen’s grasp. 

"No, Alex. I told you I would give you a chance and you took it." He turned the boy in his hold so he could face him. "You were very brave."

Something of a snort escaped Alex’s lips at that condescension.

"But bravery alone does not suffice to survive in my world, Alex. You need to keep out of this. It does not concern you and I may not be around to save your life every time."

"You have a very strange notion of saving a life." Alex retorted. 

The lines of Yassen’s lips curled into a small grin. 

Yassen could have just walked away then. Leaving the soaked, exhausted boy to mind his own business and hope they’d never meet again. 

It was the defiant, unafraid manner in which Alex held his gaze that pulled him closer. He was looking to find hatred in those eyes, but he couldn’t find it anymore now than when the boy had been holding the gun earlier. There was a hint of sadness but mostly there was determination, a raw survival instinct. 

He’d bent forward and claimed Alex’s lips before he’d formed the conscious decision to do so. There was only action, reaction, opportunity and those quick enough to claim it. 

The lips were slightly swollen from the punch Alex had received from Franco earlier. They tasted like rain and a hint of blood. 

Yassen liked to think that Alex had the opportunity to resist the kiss, even though Yassen had him fully restrained, arm locked behind his back with one hand, the other hand pinning down the boy’s wrist against the brick wall. 

But Alex wasn’t fighting him, if anything he was messily returning the kiss. Perhaps Alex thought kissing back was his best option, whether it was confusion or fear that made him act that way. It was still a choice and Yassen relished in the probing action of the boy’s mouth, lips and tongue. Taking in how inexperienced the boy was, Yassen smiled into the kiss before breaking it. He slowly let go of Alex’s arms and wrists. The boy remained plastered against the wall, panting.

"I hate you." Alex’s voice sounded soft and low and full of emotion.

Yassen reached out to stroke Alex’s cheek. The boy flinched, but only slightly and held the assassin’s gaze in a dark glare. It was such a brave thing to do and Yassen almost leaned forward to renew the kiss. Almost. 

"Yes, little Alex. I know." He said soothingly.

He took a step back, away from Alex and in one smooth movement had passed the bicycles and clutter separating the alley from the main road. He looked back at Alex; "You shouldn’t hang out in dark alleys at this time of night. It’s dangerous." With that he left.

Yassen was no fool; he knew urging Alex not to get involved would have the opposite effect. Much like a red cloth on a bull. Yassen smiled inwardly at the comparison.


End file.
